The Gauntlet
by Nidoran Duran
Summary: Vriska lets Rose top her to try and prove herself a viable kismesis, and she gets a little more than she bargained for.


"What's wrong, Lalonde?" you chide, struggling as her knee digs itself into the small of your back to try and keep you still. The cold, mercilesss metal hancuffs she forces you into may be something you want, but she sure as hell doesn't need to know about that. You give just enough of a fight that she has to struggle and push harder down onto you, which is precisely what you want. "Are you afraid you won't be able to control me?"

Rose's interest in blackrom made you laugh hysterically when you first heard about it. It was absolutely hilarious, but she seemed serious, and the way she gave you that angry kiss led to you swallowing your words and agreeing to her proposition. You'd let her try her hand at caliginous romance with you. You'd even let her top, where normally it would be a fight for dominance, just because it simply wouldn't be fair to a weak human in over their head. Your plan was to eventually assume control of it anyway; you rather liked the mental image of her choking on your bulge and being punished for thinking she could in any way be your rival. She won't do a very good job, of course, but if she has some tenacity and enough fire to give you such an angry kiss, you can at least enjoy breaking her. She won't be the first would-be kismesis you kept on the side as a plaything, just for fun. Mindfang had plenty of those, and having a human cabin girl sounds like an excellent addition to your future crew.

Rose chuckles at your taunts. "Yes, I'm absolutely terrified of you," she said dryly, and you can almost hear her eyes rolling in her skull. "Please, believe whatever ego-boosting crock you'd like to, it will only make it so much better when this is all over." She finishes cuffing you and her hands decide to explore. Her grasp is surprisingly firm, and you can feel her eyes on you like the hot piece of ass that you are. Everyone wants to get with you, you asskicking pirate badass, and you almost admire the daring Rose has, to say that she not only is capable of caliginous romance, but that she wants to hook up with the hottest blackrom prospect alive. It's an admirable sort of stupid, and at least she has wits sharp enough to keep you from getting bored with her. Oh, you can't wait to hear her beg.

When she rolls you onto your stomach and grabs a fistful of hair, you almost believe she has an idea of what she's doing. Whether Kanaya told her, or she's been reading Karkat's books, she at least understands the physicality of it. She doesn't even seem perturbed by the fact you're wincing from the way she's dragging you by the hair until you're slumped against the wall. Then, she goes and throws away the almost-respect she was earning points for by leaning down and kissing you. It's an angry kiss, sure, but she should be forcing you to make out with her pussy, not giving you more hatesnogs. The black lipstick she put on feels fresh, some of it smearing onto your lips, and you're a little shaken to admit it, but the pale blonde with a hard grip on your hair is a hot enough thing that your jeans tighten as your bulge gets riled up.

But you were already horny going into this. She doesn't get credit for taking advantage of how long you've spend fantasizing about turning the tables on her and letting her see how someone really does blackrom.

She looks down at the way your bulge squirms inside your jeans, and a smile creeps across her black lips. After chewing on yours a little longer, she breaks the kiss, her free hand reaching down to rub the fabric. "I see now why your jeans are baggy." Complimenting your kismesis is not this is done, and you begin keeping score in your head. She's a little rough around the edges so far; there's potential, but she's making all sorts of rookie mistakes. "I guess it means I can let it stay tucked away from a little bit."

Another hard pull on your hair as your head is pulled back, and she stops fondling your crotch through your jeans. Instead, she reaches for her skirt and eases it off. She had nothing on beneath, and the way she stood back up and eased forward told you that you were about to get very intimate with her trimmed snatch. Both hands ended up on your head as she spread her legs out at your sides and pushed forward. the one not entangled in your messy hair grabbing your pronged horn and using the leverage to pull your mouth up as snugly to her folds as possible.

Human sexual practices are beyond you, and to be honest her human genitals are also a curiosity. You refuse to lick because that's what you're supposed to do, but she starts pulling and saying words, and soon enough you're taking reluctant licks just to keep things moving. Nook eating is a great humiliating act for blackrom, and your mind drifts off to ponder whether or not she knew about that before she started, or if she's just lucky.

She keeps oddly quiet, you suppose because she doesn't have much in the way of a mind for dirty talk. Or perhaps that's not something humans do. You aren't sure which it is, and you don't care to ask her. That would be helping her along, and her fumbling, incomplete attempt at domming you would only make this all so much more fulfilling.

Not to mention she's pushed your head up against the wall, and anything you say would be muffled by her pussy up against your lips. That's a pretty big obstacle.

She grinds up against your face, moaning as you slowly begin to lick more. You can't go too hard on the girl and just refuse; she doesn't know how to stop you, and as amusing as it would be to watch her slowly grow more and more desperate for you to obey, you actually find eating her out less objectionable than you expected. Her vagina isn't entirely like a nook, and there is an odd enjoyment in feeling her hands squeeze a little tighter every time you lick her just right. It's just doing her a service, really, letting her know how it feels to top in blackrom for just a few minutes. Let her see what she's missing out on, to crush her even further once you let her know she'll never feel your prime oral skills ever again.

It can't possibly be that she tastes kinda nice.

She tugs on your horn harder, pulling your hair up to try and get you as tight against her as possible. You're breaking her down, the way your tongue slithers up inside of her too good for the poor girl to resist. She's probably a virgin, poor girl. So far in over her head you almost kind of feel bad for her. Not enough to show mercy, of course, but then you've never been that kind of girl. She's going to suffer once you get your hands on her.

She tastes like she's on the verge of cumming when she pulls away, gasping and turning her head away, likely hiding weakness from you. Your wrists start wriggling about, feeling out the handcuffs. You've escaped from them before, turned the tides onto other would-be rivals, and you can do it again. "You aren't losing confidence, are you?" you taunt, voice smug and swelling with joy. You have Lalonde where you want her. "It's okay if you are. You just aren't ready for it, and that's okay. If you want to stop, just uncuff me and we can go our separate wa-"

Her hand comes down hard across your face with a loud smack. You feel the sting immediately in the shape of her open slap, and you immediately go from your facade of a reasonable, understanding, friendly girl to your much truer form. You start snarling and shouting at her, only for her to hit you again. "I'm not stupid," she says sternly, "And you're nowhere near as good a liar as you think you are." She grabs you by the chin and pulls your head up to look at her, fingers digging into your lower jaw a little too hard, and holy shit has she done a complete turn. She's suddenly dominant, looking down at you with the sort of patronizing disapproval you only wish you could carry around.

It's more than a little hot.

One more smack across the face and she lets go, leaning forward and grabbing the zipper to your jeans. She's in your face, looking smarmy and in control, absolutely sexy as she undoes your pants. You aren't even focusing on your pants, or the sudden relief of your bulge as she pulls them and your underwear down in one impatient move. It's an inexperienced way of handling things, but your bulge feels free, and it slithers around appreciatively. You can't give her shit for that when she's staring you down and, impossibly, winning. She lowers her body down into your lap, her face staying eerily level as she settles in.

Her hand seizes your bulge, which becomes much more compliant as she strokes upward. It's a useful way to wrangle it, letting you know this isn't the first bulge she's ever had to deal with as she grinds the tapered tip against her folds, slick with your saliva and her leaking juices. You bite down a moan, feeling so good but having to fight every impulse you have to acknowledge it. There's pride on the line here, and you're going to do everything you can to stay on top of things until you can physically take control.

She eases herself down your bulge, hips accommodating the way it squirms with the sort of practised motion that tells you she isn't nearly as amateurish as she's letting on. Maybe for blackrom, but the girl knows her way around a tentadick, and that's cause for concern. You've underestimated her, and Rose is precisely the sort of person who can turn the tables on you if you aren't careful. She's got the knowledge, the sharp mind, and the amazingly tight, sopping wet pussy slowly enveloping your aching bulge in velve-

Fuck, there you go, doing exactly what you're supposed to not do. You struggle against the cuffs again, wishing they were a weaker, shittier pair, because they aren't breaking no matter how hard you try. Nothing about this is fair, especially the way Rose tilts your head up and bears down into your neck. You can't stop her from running her lips along your sensitive skin as she pushes down to get that last, thick inch of your base inside of her. She is an evil, evil girl and you are slowly beginning to begrudgingly respect her.

Once her hips begin moving, her kisses turn into bites, and you draw in a sharp breath of shock the first time her jaw clamps down into your flesh. Her teeth aren't sharp like a troll's are, but her jaw still has some force behind it and the bluntness of them doesn't change the fact that it hurts. Pain digs into you, making you groan and hiss, except it's the reaction she wants out of you because she's trying not to laugh in self-satisfaction, and she's doing a shit job at it because your bulge is bigger than she expected and you can tell she's a little caught off guard by just how nicely you've filled her up.

Again, you feel the stark contrast between species. Nooks are a little more spacious and lubricated by thinned out genetic fluid that's much less sticky. Some cerulean quim is already making a small puddle beneath you as Rose rides you. You aren't complaining about it one bit; the tightness is amazing.

"Looks like I'm a little too 8ig," you tease, though by this point it's all just token efforts to keep yourself straight. Just because you let her top doesn't mean she wins by default, and you're intent on coming out of this victorious. "Admit you're in over your head, Lalonde. It'll save you so much trou8le." In reality, you mean something more like, "No, please don't stop, Rose. You're one of the 8est fucks I've had in a long time."

You expect the slap this time, but it comes down on the cheek she'd been abusing previously and stings a lot more this time. The pain compounds with each strike, but instead of being a deterrent it's encouraging you to taunt her more, just to feel that pain surge through you. Her teeth help keep you from goading her too much and being obvious; her bites are growing harder and more frantic as she rides your bone bulge, her soaked pussy dripping into your lap as you throb inside of her. The pain is enough to tide you over while you try and fail to formulate a plan through the muddled mess of impulses and errant thoughts that is your current state of mind.

"You're lucky I like your voice," she says. "Otherwise I'd consider gagging you so I could get some quiet. But then, I guess I wouldn't be able to hear you break if I did that." You can tell she's acting; it's more obvious with her than it has been with any other blackrom partner you've ever had. She's mimicking emotions genuine to your species, regurgitating lines she's heard elsewhere, but to them it's all a game, isn't it? Something they dress up for so they can pretend to hate each other and sling around some abuse. There's a lot of similarities, but it will only ever be a game for her, and not in the way you make romance of both flush and pitch varieties into a game. She just won't ever genuinely hate you in a way conducive to romance.

But fuck, it feels good to pretend, just for a moment.

Her hands find your sides, holding you still for support as she writhes in your lap, lifting up only to come down onto your bulge. She's visibly worked up, not caring about composure as she leans her head back to let out an unsteady moan. You wonder if she can even go past her first orgasm, or if you're going to have the easiest time in the world making her see what real blackrom is. Granted, you can feel yourself nearing release and you don't even have the excuse of being eaten out that she does.

The insulting part is that you even cum before she does. How embarrassing. Your bulge throbs and writhes inside of her, rubbing against her inner walls as your orgasm strikes. You release your genetic material into her, a thick rush of cerulean seed that, just as quickly as it's gushing into her, leaks out the sides of your penetration. It's thick, warm, and comes out with such force that it sets her off immediately after. She bucks frantically in your lap, gasping and moaning, and it's a great boost to your ego-as if you needed one-to know that you brought her to such a satisfying climax.

"Don't tell me that's all," you sing mockingly, and right on queue she slaps you. Then she climbs out of your lap and grabs a fistful of your hair to slap you several times in a row, each time your bulge jerking in absolute glee. Blackrom is your thing, and whether giving or getting pain, you're in fucking paradise. There's an angry girl standing over you giving you all that pain, and as the cherry on top she has something to prove. It's always so much sweeter when someone has something to prove. Of course, you've proven it all by now, and it's a nice nostalgia trip to watch it from the other side.

After leaving your face sore and stinging, she pulls away, reaching into the bag she put on the table. It doesn't take her long to produce a strap-on. On Alternia, it's something worn by the occasional mutants who find themselves without a bulge., but you suppose for a race where half of the people don't have one, it's a vital tool. Of course, you still snicker and snort at her for using the equivalent of an artificial limb, and for your trouble you're rewarded with nails down your arm.

She's gone the extra mile of getting one that accommodates for the additional spaciousness of a nook. Girl's done her homework, and it's cute that she thinks she can fuck you with that and it be halfway decent, regardless of size. She may have a good idea of what she's doing, but you're too good to fall victim to someone with a big toy and no clue how to use it. It'll be cute to watch her try, though.

She slips the harness on, then decides to press her foot into your face and push you down to lie on the floor. You obey, because even if you're stronger, you have to set her up for failure, and there's no fun in not letting her disappoint first. You lie on your back, surprised she isn't making you lick her feet or anything as she instead pulls the foot away and focuses instead on getting your legs wide apart. She gets down between them, fingernails scratching your thighs in an attempt to make you recoil and part them, but you decide to get difficult. She nearly breaks the skin as she rages her fingers down your thighs again and again, but eventually even the pain isn't worth the boredom, and you tire before the ninth time down.

Your legs spread wide for her and she gets into position, wasting absolutely no time with prepping you. She just jerks forward and buries most of the fake cock inside of you. Of course, you can take it fine-you've taken bigger-but you still moan a little too loudly and your leg still twitches. You're sensitive so soon after your orgasm and the sudden full feeling in your nook is just what you need to keep from coming down off the high. It's clever, you'll concede that. She knows how to keep your body primed and still on the verge of release. It's evil.

But then she puts her hand around your throat, and you forget what "evil" means.

Your breath gets cut off, and you weren't prepared for it so you hadn't exactly taken a big one. Your bulge throbs and you nook tightens, your entire body torn between panic and excitement. You've never been choked before. Done a lot of it to others, but never had someone's hand squeezing your windpipe and letting you get a taste of the matter. Rose had a lot of guts to do that, and oh fuck you're way too turned on by it. Your eyes go wide as you stare up at her, her dominant, fiery gaze shooting back down at you. Her black lips are curled into a sadistic smile, and that's when you begin to question every thought you've had that night.

The eagerness with which the human girl has thrown herself into pitch romance and every twisted, kinky act that it entails both terrifies and arouses you. The terror of it arouses you further, and the fact you're so turned on makes you even more afraid. It's a twisted, fucked up cycle and it's that moment, when she's actually forced you to doubt yourself and feel 'that's pretty fucked up' about yourself that you realize she might actually be a potent rival after all.

Her fingers wriggle against your throat, getting into a more optimal position as her hips get to work. There's a fluid motion running through her body, setting a rhythm by which to both fuck you and choke you. At the apex of her thrust she pushes down just a little harder, and every eight thrusts she'll let up in the space between them to give you just enough time to gasp before she squeezes again. Her appeasement of your number motif is a guilty turn-on, but others have done it before, so it's nothing revolutionary.

Your head buzzes, the brief, hurried sucks of air not enough to keep you steady, and slowly you begin to dim, not sure if you're verging on unconscious or just ascending to some new intensity of orgasm. You're blue in the face, vision blurring as you get fucked right into the floor. She's not showing you any mercy, and is well exceeding expectations by giving your nook the hard fucking it's been in dire need of. Your bulge rubs against her midsection, smearing her skin with your cerulean seed, and you know another load isn't far behind.

When your eyes roll back and you go limp, seemingly just on the edge of passing out, the sudden weight on your throat lifts. Your body reflexively gasps for air, chest heaving as you suck in as many rapid breaths as you can. Her hand is poised precariously at your throat still, fingers squeezing gently into the skin, letting you know you're being given a mercy. "Fucking you while you're passed out wouldn't be fun," she says, her voice muted and warped as your senses reel. On the eighth second, you suck in one last bit of air and you already know she's resuming the choking before her fingers even twitch again.

You regret doing this to your previous flings. So many of them felt your hand around their neck, or a scarf for you to squeeze. You watched the lights in their eyes almost fade, and felt them find a greatly empowered orgasm once it was all over. You wish you hadn't done it to them. Not because of guilt or perspective making you see it as cruel. No, you're sad you did it to them because you know when you cum it's going to be incredible. They didn't deserve the magnification of pleasure that is wreaking total havoc on your body.

She fucks you like she owns you, and as you stare into her eyes you're honestly beginning to wonder if she really does. Her fake cock ravages you and you're twitching, both to struggle and try to get air despite the handcuffs refusing to break, and because she's hitting you in all the right places to ruin you. It's no surprise that she knows you're on the edge when your bulge throbs and writhes even more than before, and she squeezes down extra hard for the occasion. You force out a scream that comes out as nothing but a choked sigh as your bulge flails about, spurting your genetic material all over your stomachs. Your eyes roll back again and you fuck upward against her with what little strength you still have.

She doesn't let you dwell on this one, probably because she has no need to recover. Her hand leaves your throat and lets you start taking all the breaths you need to, but you suspect it's only because she's gone to her bag again. You writhe on the floor, two orgasms deep and more turned on now than you've been since you started. "How long do you plan on keeping this going?" you ask shakily, voice a little hoarse.

"Guess," she says, producing a vibrator from the bag and coming back over to you. "You trolls and your number motifs make this too easy." Your head races with excitement as you take that to mean you're cumming eight times tonight. You underestimated Rose, but you're happy you did, because she's proving herself pretty damn craft. "Hold this." She put the buzzing toy against your bulge, which was still sensitive from your orgasm and trembling a little as it was suddenly bombarded with more pleasure. "Hold onto it, because if you drop it, you're not going to like where it goes."

Reluctantly, you coil your cock around the vibrator, trying to hold it firmly but not too tightly, because the vibrations it makes are absolute poison to you right now. No sooner do you have it securely in place than she's grabbing your neck and hair, pulling you to where she wants you to be, squeezing for good measure just to choke you a little more. You suspect she likes the sounds you make when your body desperately tries to get air whether it can or not. She bends you over the bed and then lets go, placing the hands on the backs of your shoulders. From there, she digs her nails into your skin and rakes them down, this time actually breaking the skin in a few places, making you hiss and groan again as the endless pain continues.

"Isn't sadism frowned on among humans?" you tease through gritted teeth, even if every cruelty she's done to you so far tonight has left you more turned on than you've been in recent memory. She has the necessary deviancy and creativity to really put the screws to you, and it's frightening how much you're admiring her for it.

She doesn't respond, dropping to her knees behind you and bringing her flat palm down hard on your ass. It makes you push forward and cry out, the sudden sharp pain taking you. The hand in your hair sees fit to pull at that moment, which goes over poorly with the reflex to bury your head into the softness of the bed she has you up against. It only makes the pain worse, and the way she's grinning against your back as she starts biting down on your shoulder tells you that she probably saw that coming.

The rhythm with which her hand bears down on your ass is a predictable one, but that makes it no less painful as her hand comes down with a hard, loud slap that makes you whimper and cry out. Your bulge continues gripping the vibrator out of fear for what she'll do if you disobey. It dawns on you then that you've come to fear her, that she has completely taken control of the situation, and you have gone from just enjoying being on the bottom to submitting to her lest you incur her wrath, even as she takes out all manner of painful acts on you, the spectre of what even worse things she could do than these frightening you. She's won. The eagerness and aptitude with which she's approached blackrom both horrifies and deeply arouses you, and you've stopped fighting at that point.

Your bulge squirms as your third orgasm approaches, and you grit your teeth and try to force it to keep position desperately, even as Rose's spanking becomes harder and shakes your body more. It's a desperate struggle very clearly designed to make you fail. Her teeth sinking into your neck only serve to taunt you further, and that realization is the moment that you start seeing spades for her. You hate her, but it's in the absolute best way possible, and in that moment the only thing you want is for her to leave your ass bright, burning red.

Each strike feels more painful than the last, and soon enough her bites aren't even registering for you because of how much she's left you pained. You have no idea how you're going to sit again, but then you suppose she's got things planned to keep you from getting to relax like that. The relentless buzzing makes you writhe, and by the time you realize you're cumming, it's too sudden, too soon, and you're letting out a string of panicked expletives.

The rush of genetic fluid makes your bulge mostly straighten out, uncurling and pointing forward as it jerks and writhes. You make another large mess on the floor, but it's secondary to the sound of the vibrator loudly falling and the intense buzzing against the floor. It feels good; so good that were you not just barely aware enough of your situation to realize that it wasn't going to end well for you, you would almost be excited for what she does next. The mixture of pain and pleasure has left your body overworked, and you're finally reaching the point where it's all coming together.

Instead, you gulp.

She lets go of you, hands and teeth pulling away with such immediacy that you start swearing faster.

"I told you to hold onto it," she says firmly, picking it up from the puddle it's lying in. Her hand gets covered in your cum in the process, and when it slams down against your aching rear the wetness of it makes it hurt even more. "Do you know what's going to happen now?"

"8-8ad things?" you whimper between curses. Strings of the same word over and over in unbroken eights.

"Precisely.


End file.
